


Three months

by AmberEyedLover



Series: Dark Bingo Card [12]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Inner Demons, Internal Monologue, M/M, Self battle, Self confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberEyedLover/pseuds/AmberEyedLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam reflects back on the time it took Tommy to win every demon he had inside his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three months

Three months was all it took to fall in love with him.

Three months and he broke my walls, dived in under my skin and settled under my ribs.

I couldn't hate him even if I tried...I did once, I tried so fucking hard to hate him, to drive him away, to hurt him.

But he came back.

He kept coming back. 

 

I knew it was wrong to take but he was always there.

Always pushing and pulling...begging for my attention.

He had been ever since he walked in through that door.

 

He was everywhere I was, he was everywhere I wasn't.

His touch burned, long fingers always curling around mine, around my hand, my arm, my hair.

He tugged and he tugged, pushed and he pulled. 

 

I was never alone when he turned up.

 

I hated him for driving people away, driving away fucks and free rides. I knew it, I knew it the moment I settle eyes on those brown orbs of his that he was trouble. He was trouble from the first moment he walked in, a guitar slung over his shoulder, a ratty old hoody and a dirty old leather jacket underneath the strap. 

He was trouble, he was trouble in ways I didn't realise at the time.

 

"Tommy-Joe" He said his name was, the cute little accent joined with a smirk which quirked at the corner of his eyes, a shine which held me captive.

Yes, he was trouble all right.

 

I remember it, I remember it all!

A crowded bar, a random club, miles away from home and miles away from life.

I had one...a cute little brunette, eyes the colour of the sky, I had him...he was mine, caught in the web of lies, caught in my trap.

But he was there, he broke my web, tore the catch from my hands and set him free. Replacing those sky blue eyes with a sea of stormy brown, eyes which sent shivers down my spine and searched my soul.

I knew I was in trouble, the downturn of his lips told me as much, even before the disappointment reached his eyes as he shook his head, words left his mouth but I didn't take notice of them, no.

I pushed him away, told him to go home, to leave my life...that I hated him, hated him for scaring away guys good enough to fuck, good enough to break. 

I yelled, told him he was useless, told him that he was talentless, that a deaf person had more talent playing guitar then he did. 

 

I saw his eyes change, saw the way my words hit, saw the way they hurt.

I watched the way he would walk away, the feeling of alcohol soaking through my pours as he pushed past people and disappeared in the darkness.

 

But he always came back, he always will.

He tells me to let him in, to let him know the real me behind the mask, to let him push away all the darkness inside my chest.

He tells me that he would listen, that he wouldn't tell another soul. 

I believe him.

Honest to god, I believe him. Bu I can't, I can't let him push away something he had already brushed clean the moment he came in to my life.

How can you tell someone that you tired to hurt them on purpose, tries to push them away, to hate them. How can you tell them?

 

Three months was all which it took for him to push me until I snapped.

 

He done it again, but it was different.

 

He pushed in between, slipped his hands over my waist, clung on to my sides and bit at his lip, brown eyes dark under long lashes which brushed against his pale cheeks. He made me forget. Made me forget the guy I had been trying to catch. Made me forget in one breath. 

He told me to take him, to use him and abuse him. Told me to take my frustration out on his body, but how could I? How could I do that when it was his body that I had wanted to worship.

 

He pushed me and he pushed me and I finally cracked, the last layer of ice which lay under my chest breaking cleaning and quickly. He held me and I pushed.

I pushed him away and ran, ran back to the only place I felt like I could own.

 

I should've know he would've followed, after all...he never did give up on me. I was like the prize ever child looked for in the bag of their cereal, their eyes searching for a hint when they could've dived right in, spill the cereal over the floor and snatch the prize right up. No, he waited, he was patient like the child who knew that it would be there, had faith that it would fall in to their bowl one morning while rain fell against the window panes.

 

He pushed and pushed and pushed, yet he waited too, he followed and I let him, I held the door open as he crossed, cold skin brushing over mine as he moved, clothes heavy with the rain it gathered from the dash from club to hotel.

I played hard, I gave him everything I had and he took it, he took the angry words, the hurtful little things, he took the pushes I gave him and the sneers I thought he deserved.

He took it all before he gave back just as good, gave back all the hurtful words I gave him, all the jabs and pushes, all the angry I laid upon him until I cracked.

 

Three months was all it took.

Three months for him to break me down and climb under my skin and lay his claim.

Three months was all it took for him to own my heart.

 

He fought and fought against me, each time I sent him away he came back stronger, came back wiser.

He took three months of pushing for me to take. To use him and break him, three months of constant attention and late night phone calls of tired conversations.

 

I took. 

I took everything. 

I took and left nothing behind.

 

Three months I think, three months and he broke me, shaped me, made me.

 

And now, as I look back six months later, I knew that he knew as I lay beside him and trace my fingers over his stomach, chasing the shadows over the curve of barely there muscle and over the bump of ribs just under soft skin as I look at brown eyes under soft lashes.

 

I knew that he knew, he knew how long it took to soften my heart, he knew that I didn't mean my words I said, the hurtful pushes and careless fucks.

 

He knew, it took three months for me to fall in love with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally ask of this, but I really would love your feed back on this fic, part of it comes from my own feelings and own inner demons, but I just had the thought of Adam really battling something he had no control over.


End file.
